


The Price of Infatuation

by NestingHedwig_aka_LinW



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Chan, First Time, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Slash sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-19
Updated: 2007-10-19
Packaged: 2018-09-28 11:08:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10096925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NestingHedwig_aka_LinW/pseuds/NestingHedwig_aka_LinW
Summary: What if Severus was the one who bought the Firebolt, not Sirius?  WINNER 2006 QUILLS COMPETITION - Golden Quill (1st Place) Romance.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

Disclaimer: The story is based on characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including, but not limited to Scholastic Books and Warner Bros. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended; no monetary gain will be made from this story.  
Author’s Notes: This fic was part of the ´Infinite Cantatum´ Harry/Severus AU Fuh-Q-Fest (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/After_class/). Challenge: 52. What if Severus was the one who bought the Firebolt, not Sirius? (Carol)  
Harry did not lose his Nimbus 2000 to the Whomping Willow tree in this third year; he is still using his trusty broom at the start of this story. Sirius is still his godfather, but is not a large influence in Harry’s life. This was written before I read the Order of the Phoenix, so Harry’s timeline will appear different than cannon.

*~*~*~*~  
The Price of Infatuation  
*~*~*~*~  
11:58 pm – July 30th

Harry looked into the evening sky from his neat, tiny bedroom at #4 Privet Drive. The night was clear and crisp; he could see a few stars, but the ambient light of Little Winnig obscured most of them.

He heard the sound of laughter from the kitchen below. Harry looked toward his locked bedroom door. It was very strange that the Dursleys were still awake; they were creatures of habit and were usually asleep by 10:30.

11:59 pm

In one minute the slender green-eyed wizard would be sixteen. He knew it was doubtful that he had been born exactly at midnight on July 31st, but he had always marked that time as the moment of his birth.

Looking back into the night sky, he saw an odd shape in the sky approaching Privet Drive. He had seen that odd shape several years earlier and stepped back from his window. A tiny ball of feathers flew into his window moments before the larger mass flumped onto his bed. His snowy owl, Hedwig, and a Hogwarts school owl were supporting the crumpled form of Errol, the Weasley’s ancient barn owl. Pigwidgeon hooted softly and landed on the bed, gently nudging the unconscious owl. 

Harry quickly removed the parcel attached to Errol’s leg. A soft hoot of thanks told him the old owl was still alive.

After being relieved of his package, the Hogwarts owl hooted once and took off through the window, not stopping for water or a treat. Hedwig nipped at his hair as he removed her burden. In a move of surprise maturity Pig, Ron’s hyperactive mini owl, remained still long enough for Harry to remove a roll of parchment.

12:07 am – July 31st

Harry heard the wood protest as the weight of Vernon Dursley lumbered up the staircase. The young wizard set out water and treats for the owls and tucked the sleeping Errol into a nest of Dudley’s enormous t-shirts beside Hedwig’s cage. The locks on his door were drawn and Harry saw the large silhouette of his uncle filling the doorway. He squinted at the bright light from the hallway.

“Boy,” Uncle Vernon hissed. “You have until 1:00 to clear out…I want every trace of your abnormality removed from my house.”

“U-uncle Vernon?” Harry looked at the huge man in shock.

The neck less man’s mustache twitched in ill concealed amusement. “And take those ruddy birds too….I’ll burn anything that remains.” 

Harry heard his uncle descend the stairs and the delighted laughter of his aunt and cousin a moment later.

Harry shook off the shock and began to look around his bedroom. Opening his wardrobe, he grasped the handles of his school trunk and hauled it to the center of the room. His mind in controlled panic, he began to stack his schoolbooks into the trunk, followed by his cauldron.

“Remain calm,” he whispered under his breath. “Think.”

Harry quickly gathered his toiletries from the bathroom and tucked them into a plastic bag. He added that to the neatly stacked clothing and parchments. Without looking at them, his birthday presents, cards and letters were added. A nervous glance at the alarm clock showed he still had twenty minutes.

Kneeling beside his bed, he opened his secret compartment in the floor. Tucking his wand into his waistband and a pouch of wizard currency in his jeans pocket, he added his photo albums into the trunk. His invisibility cloak was set aside.

Hedwig and Pig watched sleepily from atop Harry’s headboard. Adding a bag of owl treats and the now empty water dishes to the trunk, Harry performed a simple enlargement charm on the cage and secured the three owls inside. Due to the rise of Voldemort, the Ministry had rewritten its underage wizardry laws to permit sixteen-year-old wizards living in the Muggle world to perform magic while on school holidays.

“I know it will be cramped, but I’ll let you out just as soon as I figure out where I am going.”

Ten minutes left. Harry checked his wardrobe, desk and dresser for forgotten items. He removed several posters and drawings from his walls. He left behind a pile of Dudley’s castoffs and shook out his bed linen.  
He added the quill and rune stone he found under his bed. With a final look around the bedroom, he added the alarm clock and locked his trunk.

With seven minutes to spare, Harry pulled on a Weasley sweater over his t-shirt and jeans, and pulled a bicycle cap onto his head to hide his scar. He placed a featherlight charm on the owl cage and reduced the trunk to fit in his pocket. He tied the invisibility cloak into a loose knot around his waist and pulled his baggy sweater over it. Grasping his Nimbus 2000 racing broom in one hand and the owl cage in his other, he silently descended the stairs.

Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley were waiting in the foyer. Uncle Vernon opened the front door, reached into his trouser pocket and threw a wad of crumpled pound notes and change out the door. Harry paused, opened the door to the cupboard beneath the stairs and crawled in, returning with an old cigar box containing his toy horse figures and soldiers, and a ragged baby blanket. Dudley took a step back in alarm as Harry drew his wand and reduced the box, adding it to his pockets. The blanket was draped over the owl cage to make them feel secure.

“You took everything?”

“I think so, Uncle Vernon.”

“I don’t care what those freaks at your school say….you are never to come back here….Understand me, Boy?”

“Yes, Uncle Vernon.”

Harry stepped through the doorway onto the small stoop. He swallowed to keep his stomach from heaving.

“Boy.” Harry looked up into his uncle’s grinning face. “Happy sixteenth birthday.”

The door slammed shut, laughter echoing in Harry’s ears.

“Accio Muggle money,” he whispered as the porch light went out and the meager collection of notes and coins gathered in his hand.

*~*~*~*  
Hedwig let out a confused hoot as Harry began to walk away from Privet Drive for the last time, trying hard not to jostle the cage too much. Stopping in the small park on Magnolia Crescent, Harry held his wand into the air and summoned the Knight Bus.

After a moment, he heard the distinctive boom, a flash of light, and the purple triple-decker bus careened to a stop beside him. Thankfully, Stan and Ernie were not driving that evening, so Harry was able to travel in total anonymity.

Harry paid his fare and passed by several occupied beds. He set the owl cage and broom on the foot of the bed and curled up into the top two thirds, deep in thought. How anyone could fall asleep on this bus he never knew. After watching the witch beside him spill hot chocolate onto her pillow for the second time he was glad he had declined the beverage.

“Next stop, The Leaky Cauldron, London,” the conductor called. “Ten minutes.”

Harry reduced his Nimbus 2000 and tucked it into his pocket with his school trunk. Stealthily, he untied the invisibility cloak from around his waist and gathered the silky fabric in his hand. A number of witches and wizards disembarked at The Leaky Cauldron. In the distractions that followed the loading and unloading of passengers, Harry slipped beneath the cloak and slid into the busy pub. Careful to avoid contact, the slim wizard ducked behind the bar and waited for Tom to have a calm moment.

Without asking questions, Tom hurried the still invisible wizard into a room behind the bar. In the battle of Light and Dark, Tom was a neutral player with friends on both sides, but Tom was first and foremost a great-great grandfather and he would have defended any child with his life.

Tom waved for one of his employees to take over the bar for a few minutes. The old wizard moved Harry and the owls to a secret safe room. Only after Harry had floospoke to Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall on a secure fireplace did Harry curl up in an overstuffed chair, nibble on the light snack Tom brought, and doze off, covered in a garish multi-colored crocheted afghan that Tom’s wife or daughter must have made from leftover wool.

Harry awoke a little after 5:00 am when Professor McGonagall flooed into the pub and brought him back into the relative safety of Hogwarts.

Professor McGonagall, Potions Master Severus Snape, Madam Pinz and the caretaker Argus Filch were the only current human residents of Hogwarts. The other staff members, with the exception of the house elves, were on holiday and even Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was visiting his brother Alberforth in Denmark.

With no place to hide and under pointed questioning by both professors, Harry was forced to admit to the fifteen years of abuse he had suffered at the hands of the Dursleys. When a quick scan of the too slender wizard revealed signs of malnutrition, Severus Snape was dispatched to check Madam Pomphrey’s stores for the nutrient potion she administered to students showing signs of anorexia. 

Minerva McGonagall was in full “mother cat” mode; she had warned Albus Dumbledore that the Muggles were unsuitable guardians and Harry had been made to unnecessarily suffer fifteen years of neglect and emotional abuse. Harry decided that it was a good thing Professor Dumbledore was away because Professor McGonagall with her claws out was even more frightening than Professor Snape in a full snit. 

*~*~*~*  
With the continued threat from Voldemort and his Death Eaters, it was decided that Harry would spend the next month at Hogwarts for his own protection. He would help Mr. Filch with Professor Sprout’s greenhouses and gardens, and, if needed, help the professors ready their rooms for the coming semester.

Harry did not leave the school grounds for the remainder of the summer. He continued to owl his friends and godfather, but it was deemed too dangerous for the Weasley clan to arrange Harry’s usual summer visit. He ordered his supplies by Owl Post and they were sent to Hogwarts with Professor Snape’s potion ingredients and the Infirmary supplies.

*~*~*~*  
Severus Snape studied the young man methodically stocking the First Year through Third Year Potions cabinets. Harry had been helping him the past few days repackaging some of the bulk supplies and restocking the cabinets and storerooms. Severus was forced to reevaluate his long held animosity toward the younger wizard.

The young man continued to surprise him. Harry had not panicked when he found himself abandoned by that idiot Muggle uncle with barely enough Muggle currency to purchase a plate of fish and chips from a corner pub, he had agreed with and not complained when Minerva informed him it would be unsafe to leave the school grounds or to visit with friends and he had performed his tasks diligently, without complaint. He had even managed to do the impossible; Harry Potter had made peace with Mrs. Norris, Filch’s skeletal cat.

Harry had matured a great deal over the years; the silly, foolish Gryffindor began to disappear from the moment his name was pulled out of the Goblet of Fire and he was totally gone the moment Cedric Diggory’s body was pried from his arms. What remained was a fierce, introspective young man who Severus realized was looking and acting less like James Potter and more like Lily Evans.

*~*~*~*  
To cut the awkward silence when they first began organizing the potions storerooms, Severus picked an ingredient and asked Harry what he knew about it. The wizard’s knowledge surprised him. Soon, they began discussing other things. Gone was the Muggle-raised boy who had never heard of asphodel and wormwood; Harry had attacked his fifth year with a fervor that nearly put Hermione Granger to shame and he had dropped any course that would serve no purpose in the fight against Voldemort. To Professor Trelawny’s dismay, the first course he dropped was Divination. Astronomy and Care of Magical Creatures soon followed only to be replaced by Battle Magic, Intermediate Mediwizardry and secret instruction by Professors Dumbledore and Flitwick in Wandless Magic.

As the other professors began to arrive, Harry helped them get their classrooms in order. Flitwick, Trelawny and Vector only needed him for several hours. He spent several days helping Hagrid and Flich with the Owlery and several more days with Madam Pomfrey in the Infirmary.

Severus continued to study Harry. Once he began to see the green eyed young man without his own filter of paternal hatred, he realized that not many people actually saw Harry. The Dursleys saw a freak that needed to be controlled through abuse; the wizarding world saw a one dimensional cartoon savior. But very few people saw the real Harry, an emotionally damaged, affection starved sixteen year old.

Several days before the start of term, Severus awoke early and decided to take a walk before breakfast. A flash of color over the Quidditch Pitch caught his attention. Harry was practicing; the preciseness of his maneuvers left Severus transfixed. Over the years, the Seeker had honed his skills; his Wronski Feints were some of the best Severus had ever seen, including those by the professional players. As the Potion Master watched Harry turn tightly through the goal hoop, he wondered how much better the wizard would perform with a top of the line racing broom. His five-year-old Nimbus 2000 was a dinosaur among racing brooms. 

*~*~*~*  
Harry was not blind to Severus observing him. He was glad that they seemed to have arrived at some sort of truce, almost a friendship. He had examined his feelings toward the Potion Master after the Tri-Wizard Tournament and realized that Severus wore even more masks than he did. He also realized that the man never really hated him. The Wizard Debt owed James Potter had been paid in full by his first year, but Severus continued to protect him and the confrontational attitude was merely an attempt to keep him grounded.

*~*~*~*  
Harry sat at the Gryffindor table and waited for the students to arrive from the Hogwarts Express. He had almost convinced Professor McGonagall to let him ride the train, but in the end, she decided it was better to err on the side of caution.

Ron and Hermione sat on either side of him, happy to be back at school. They both chatted excitedly about their summers. Hermione and her parents had traveled throughout Eastern Europe and the Weasleys had visited Charlie in Romania.

“So Harry,” Hermione asked. “What is summer at Hogwarts really like? Did you spend lots of time in the library researching your homework?”

Ron snorted but Harry smiled. “It was nice to be able to spread out and take my time doing my homework without worrying about my uncle, but the library was closed. Madam Pinz and the house elves spent the summer cleaning, repairing and reshelving every book in the library. Nearly Headless Nick and The Grey Lady were helping her as well, although I’m not sure how. They just finished yesterday. 

“I practiced flying when I wasn’t helping out the professors, but it wasn’t much fun by myself. Madam Hooch and Professor Vector came out for a couple of scrambles though. They kept trying to get Snape on a broom, but he was too busy brewing potions for Madam Pomfrey.”

“I’d like to see that greasy git on a broom.” Seamus joined into the conversation.

“You’ve seen him fly…he’s refereed Quidditch games before…and anyway…he’s really not greasy.”

Ron’s mouth dropped open. “What do you mean he’s not greasy? Look at him.”

Harry laughed. “I spent over a week sorting potion ingredients with him. His hair was clean and pulled back in a pony tail and his skin is as pale as Malfoy’s.

“The last day I was down there, he began to brew potions for the Infirmary. The first thing he did was rub a protective lotion on his exposed skin…It makes the skin look yellow…and the hair potion protects his hair from sparks and prevents stray falling hair from contaminating the cauldron.”

Seamus shot Severus a quick look. “You’re not going to tell me he’s a looker out of class, are you? Because if you are, you inhaled too many fumes in the dungeons.”

Harry’s eyes flickered over the severe Potion Master. A smirk played at his lips; the man’s masks were back in place. “He’s too skinny and his nose has been broken too many times for him to ever be considered handsome, but you know what they say about a pretty face…”

The Sorting Ceremony began and the distractions that followed ended all speculation on Harry’s odd opinion of the Potion Master. Harry’s eyes drifted to the other tables and he noticed Pansy Parkinson at the Slytherin table. She was staring at her head of house with a look of absolute adoration.

“Harry.” Hermione nudged him. Ron had moved to talk with Seamus and Dean about Quidditch and Neville had slid into Ron’s seat. “What’s so fascinating about the Slytherin table?”

He jolted. He had not realized he was being obvious. “Look at Pansy.”

Hermione giggled. Neville smiled. “She always has fancied the snarky git…I think I noticed it third year.”

“He’s not that bad ‘Mione,” Neville said under his breath. Months of remedial tutoring with Snape the previous year had helped to cure his fright of the professor.

“No, he’s not.” Harry agreed. “I saw a bit of the man behind the mask this summer…. Neville, how is your grandmother doing?”

“Gran is out of St. Mungo’s…She’s not home though. Uncle Algie is taking care of her. Cousin Sidney is still taking care of Gran’s house.” Mrs. Longbottom, Neville’s imposing grandmother had suffered a stroke late in the fifth year. Uncle Algie’s adult son had moved into the Longbottom Estate in her absence; the younger wizard had proved to be a good influence for Neville, and the man’s kind attentions had done wonders for the young wizard’s self esteem. Still shy, but a little more sure of himself, even his clumsiness had abated somewhat as he grew into his body.

When Hermione began to speak with Lavender, Neville nudged Harry and whispered into his ear. “It’s not just Pansy that fancies him, you know. Hannah Abbott and Mandy Brocklehurst…Percy Weasley did too, you know? But he always has had a thing for powerful wizards…”

“What about you?” Harry knew that Neville liked men.

“Oh, he still can scare the hell out of me…but his voice…”

Harry knew what Neville meant about the professor’s voice. It’d deep, smoky quality and its dangerous purr had awoken a feeling in Harry over the summer, and he wasn’t sure what to think about it.

*~*~*~*  
Severus was at a loss; he was running out of ideas to deal with Pansy Parkinson’s infatuation. He thought that she was a lovely girl, but she had been raised to be an ornament, and, even if he had been looking for a companion, which he was not, he would have no need of a trophy wife.

Her clothes had become revealing and her make up a bit too harsh. Her subtle movements had become blatant. In an attempt to make herself more alluring, she had cheapened herself. She was making a fool of herself in front of the school and that was a very un-Slytherin thing to do.

Her friends had tried to talk with her and, sensing Severus’ growing discomfort, fellow Slytherin Professor Sinistra had even invited Pansy to tea for a little heart to heart chat.

*~*~*~*  
Severus stripped down a dozen long stemmed, red roses left “anonymously” at his workbench into their separate potion ingredients during the combined 6th Year Slytherin-Gryffindor Double Potions class. He knew it was a cruel thing to do to a young woman’s heart, but he was tired of the humiliation her infatuation brought to him and he really did need fresh rose thorns for an experimental potion he was working on.

The class, knowing fully well who the roses had come from, cast cautious glances at Pansy. Pansy, who was paired with Harry that day, kept her head up, no emotion showing on her attractive face. Harry was not deceived; the trembling of her hands as she sliced her willow root betrayed her. Harry felt sorry for her as he remembered his own pathetic crush on Cho Chang his fourth and fifth years.

“Pansy,” he whispered.

“What is it, Potter? Going to laugh at me too?”

“No. Just…you’re trying too hard.”

”And you’re an expert, Golden Boy?” she spat. “All those presents from all your admirers make you an expert?”

“Pansy, think about it. Of all of those who throw themselves at me…how many have I actually gone out with?”

Pansy looked at Harry in surprise. “None.”

“Very good…do you know why?”

“They’re not good enough for the Boy Who Lived?”

Harry winced at the hated title. “They want the Boy Wonder…to be able to say they snogged the Boy Who Lived…none of them have ever made any attempt to know me…Harry. That’s the mistake they make…and that’s the mistake you’re making with Snape…. It’s time to add the three moth wings.

Pansy added the three moth wings to their potion, stirring the cauldron three times clockwise and twice counterclockwise. Maybe Potter wasn’t as stupid as she thought he was; she glanced to the front of the class, watching her beloved Severus cautiously examine Goyle and Longbottom’s mixture. She would try to get to know the real Severus; maybe he would love her then.

*~*~*~*  
To say that Madam Pomfrey hated the game of Quidditch would be an understatement. Less than a half-hour into the first game of the season – Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw, Professor Flitwick had already levitated in an unconscious Ravenclaw Chaser. Not fifteen minutes later, Gryffindor Keeper Seamus Finnegan followed with a broken arm, escorted by Professor Snape.

The far away cheers of the Quidditch Pitch broke the silence in the Infirmary. The game was tied 30-30. It was a rebuilding year for all the teams; so many of the first string players had been reserve players or had changed positions and even more were playing for the first time. Because they were still inexperienced, many dangerous mistakes were being made. The bludgers were spinning out of control and the quaffle was being clumsily passed.

Harry, one of the few players returning to his old position, was keeping one eye on the game and the search for the Snitch and a second one on Stewart Ackerly, the nervous Third Year Ravenclaw playing his first game as Seeker. He had pulled the boy out of the path of a rogue bludger twice already; if the boy did not grow eyes in the back of his heads soon, this could very well be his first and last game. Even Madam Hooch had shouted a “Heads Up!” at Stewart.

Severus was making his way back toward the game when a loud cry of alarm rose over the Pitch. He picked up his pace. He was just past the gardens when he saw Professor McGonagall levitating another Gryffindor player. Fred and George Weasley, who had come in from their joke shop in Diagon Alley for the game, were supporting a Gryffindor and Ravenclaw respectively.

Knowing Poppy would need help with three more injured players, the Potions Master returned to the Infirmary. After alerting the Mediwitch to the situation, he held open the doors to the medical wing.

George set the Ravenclaw Seeker on a bed and began removing the boy’s shin guards. He had no obvious injuries, but seemed to be in deep shock. George waved the matron toward the more injured Gryffindors.

“Dean and Harry need more help than this git…I’ll get his gear off…Ravenclaw better have a Reserve Seeker lined up because this one is a menace to himself and every other player on the pitch.”

Dean Thomas, Gryffindor Beater, had facial contusions and an apparent broken nose and cheekbone. His left arm was hanging at an odd angle. Severus determined it was a dislocated shoulder and a broken collarbone. Fred helped the dazed young man out of his Quidditch robes.

Harry was immobile but his eyes were a wild green; the pupils were unevenly dilated indicating some sort of head trauma and both of his legs were at odd angles. In his arms he clutched his Nimbus 2000, the handle snapped nearly in two.

“I immobilized him to keep him from thrashing and causing more damage.” Professor McGonnogal told the nurse. “Severus, we need to have a meeting with the heads of house regarding Quidditch…Mr. Ackerly had no business being on that Pitch today; his inexperience nearly killed someone.”

“What happened?” Poppy inquired as she magiced Harry’s clothing off, afraid to cause additional suffering by removing it the conventional way. After running a quick diagnostic, she enervated the thin wizard. He had a mild concussion, three broken ribs and two broken legs.

Fred spoke. “The teams are raw right now so they are not as in control of the game as they should be. This little one froze when he saw a bludger coming at him.”

George continued. They were still finishing one another’s conversations. “Both Harry and Dean saw it and they collided with one another trying to force Stu out of the way. The bludger hit them and Harry’s broom snapped. They spun into one of the goal posts…Dean spiraled through the hoop catching his shoulder on the rim. Harry hit the support post dead on.

“Several of us had our wands out so we were able to slow their decent. Professor McGonagall placed a levitation charm so they didn’t hit the ground.”

Fred indicated the Ravenclaw. “Madam Hooch pulled him out of the sky.”

Severus gently pried Harry’s hands off his shattered racing broom and set it where the Seeker could still see it.

*~*~*~*  
In the weeks that followed Severus noted that Pansy seemed to be outgrowing her infatuation with him. Even though she continued to bring tea to his office in the evenings while he was grading papers, he was relieved that the other trappings of misplaced affection seemed to disappear. Occasionally he even allowed himself to be drawn into simple conversations, but he did that with other Slytherin students as well, so he thought nothing of it.

*~*~*~*  
Severus watched still another anonymous Postal Owl deliver mail to Harry. Normally he didn’t pay much attention to owls that landed outside of the Slytherin table, but Harry so rarely received mail that it struck him as odd until he realized that they were racing broom catalogs.

Everyone seemed to have an opinion on the type of broom Harry should buy to replace his Nimbus 2000, but the young wizard himself voiced no opinions. Once he had been deemed healed enough to fly again, Harry had borrowed several of the Quidditch players brooms. The different makes and models all reacted differently. He even tried out all the unclaimed school brooms and finally picked out an ancient Cleensweep Seven that he painstakingly refurbished to use until he purchased a broom of his own.

Severus watched Harry practice on the old broom in the early morning hours. The young man was still as graceful as ever, but even with the lack of competition on the other teams and the modifications made to the broom, it was barely adequate. The Potion Master watched as Harry pulled out of a badly maneuvered Wronski Feint. There just wasn’t enough power in that old Cleensweep; a wizard with Harry’s skills needed a top quality racing broom. 

It was a good thing Draco Malfoy had grown too tall to play Seeker, thought Severus. 

As the Christmas holidays approached, the Gryffindor Quidditch team stopped nagging Harry about getting a new broom; he refused to discuss it and, finally, even Ron and Seamus backed down. Ron hoped, but never voiced it, that Father Christmas was bringing Harry a proper broom.

*~*~*~*  
The morning of the first day of Christmas Break found a collection of students and faculty that barely filled the corner of a dining table. Since twelve students were remaining, only Professor Dumbledore, Hagrid and Severus remained. Even Argus Filch had left to visit a sister. Harry found himself alone in the Gryffindor Tower.

Harry spread his papers out in a quiet corner of the Library. He casually noticed Pansy pull a book from inside her jumper and return it to a shelf in the Restricted Section. A look of panic crossed her face when she realized Harry was watching her, but she smiled nervously in relief when he merely shrugged his shoulders and went back to his list of figures in a Muggle notebook. The racing broom catalogs were in a pile beside his Transfiguration homework; he ran his fingers longingly over a photograph of a Firebolt. Irritated with himself, he piled the catalogs on top of his notebook, elastic banded them all together with a Muggle calculator, and shoved it into his book bag.

Severus Snape searched the aisles of the Library. As he passed Pansy he greeted her with a polite nod to his head and noticed, to his discomfort, that the predatory gleam in her eyes had returned. He strode over to Harry, the only other student using the library.

“Mr. Potter.”

“Sir?”

“I need to make some salves for the Infirmary. Would you have time to assist me after lunch?”

Since the start of school, Harry occasionally helped Severus brew medicinal potions for extra credit in his Mediwizardry class. Severus liked the quiet company of the younger wizard and, truth be told, while he normally liked the solitude of his dungeons, the holiday gaiety made the solitude oppressive.

*~*~*~*  
Pansy entered Professor Snape’s workroom with what she hoped was a seductive sway to her hips. She was delighted to see his hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and that his skin was clear of the protective lotion.

“Good afternoon, Professor.” She slid next to him. “Not brewing anything caustic today?”

“No. Salves and lotions. Would you like to help us?”

Pansy missed the word “us” as she set a pot of tea and two mugs on the counter. “I brought you some tea.”

“Thank you, Miss Parkinson. Mr. Potter is in the storeroom. He might like one as well.”

Harry exited the storeroom at that moment, quilted mitts on his hands, holding a rack of freshly sterilized vials and stoppers. He was surprised by the look of utter loathing on the witch’s face before her mask slid back into place. Declining the offer of tea, he set the rack on the workbench and returned to the boiling cauldron in the storage room, ready to add another rack of vials. He shook off the uneasy feeling Pansy’s glare had given him.

Severus carefully filled the sterile vials with a thin bluish gel and stoppered them before sealing them with fresh wax. He took several sips of the hot tea before moving to check a slowly simmering cauldron. He doused the flame with a wave of his hand and set a small timer. He took several more distracted sips of the tea before moving on to a mortar and pestle beside bowls of dried herbs. Severus never noticed the satisfied smile on Pansy’s face.

As he carefully ground the mint leaves to a fine powder, a wave of warmth coursed through the dark wizard’s body. It was suddenly too warm in the workroom; Severus removed his robe and folded it neatly over a stool.

Pansy’s eyes roamed over the tall wizard’s form. He looked wonderful with the deep green pullover and the slim fitting trousers. Her fingers ached to pull his hair loose from the ponytail.

Severus clutched the edge of the workbench as several waves of warmth rushed through his body. What was causing the hot flashes? His razor sharp mind cataloged all the ingredients he had been using as well as all of the possible contamination consequences and didn’t come up with anything that could cause the reaction. Realization hit him in a flash.

“Pansy, what did you put in the tea?”

*~*~*~*  
Harry set another rack of sterile vials on a workbench and glanced over to Pansy and the professor. Severus’ skin was flushed as he clutched the edge of the bench.

“Pansy, what did you put in the tea?”

The professor began to sway as he took a step toward the witch. As another flash of heat ran through his body, the room began to spin. With Seeker reflexes, Harry was across the room catching the tall man as he pitched forward, and slowly eased them both to the floor.

“Pansy, what did you do?” Harry demanded as she knelt on the other side of Severus. She did not look at all alarmed; she looked pleased with herself.

Severus’ eyes flickered open and a feeling of arousal filled him as he looked up into the faces of his students. The bright blue eyes sparkled in anticipation; the emerald eyes were wide in confused concern. No one was more shocked than Harry when the Potions Master’s long thin arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders in a possessive hold. He was pulled into a swift and hungry kiss.

Harry jolted back in surprise. With a look of hatred, Pansy pushed him away and kissed the object of her affection. Severus flung her aside with a strong curse; wandless magic forced her from the room and into the hall. Harry heard her howl in frustration as the heavy door slammed shut, locked with a dull thud and glowed blue for a moment.

Harry scrambled to his feet and slowly backed up. With careful, panther like movements, the dark wizard approached, devouring the younger wizard with his obsidian eyes.

“P-professor?” Harry felt the edge of a workbench in his back. His heart was beating wildly. What had Pansy put in the tea?

Strong, gentle fingers caressed his face. Severus wondered why his mate was so terrified of him. He lifted the slim form and sat him on the workbench, equaling their heights. Slipping his thin frame between Harry’s knees, he pulled Harry’s hips firmly forward, initiating contact. The younger wizard jumped slightly and found his lips captured once again. Severus’ long, thin fingers ghosted over the slight form and he felt Harry tremble at his touch.

Severus’ hands caressed his back and one hand crept beneath the sweater and t-shirt Harry was wearing. The skin was smooth and warm; his fingers ran the length of Harry’s spine, counting the vertebrae. Both his hands caressed the torso, counting the ribs. It appeared he and his mate had something in common; they were both rail thin with too many bones and not enough natural padding.

Not satisfied with just touching the younger man, he wanted to taste him as well. Harry gasped as his Weasley sweater and underlying t-shirt were pulled over his head in a practiced move. His wand, which had been tucked up in a sleeve, clattered to the floor. Cold fingers crept over his skin and he shivered in the coolness of the dungeon workroom. Taking advantage, Severus slid his tongue between Harry’s lips. The kisses became deeper and more demanding. Severus grasped the slim hips and slowly rocked against them. Harry’s arousal built; with a soft moan he wrapped his legs around the tall man’s hips.

The alarm went off for the timed potion on the workbench beside them. With a muttered curse, Severus released his hold on Harry and strode to the bench carefully measuring the cooled solution into the waiting vials.

Harry shook himself. What was he doing? He hopped off the tabletop, adjusting his growing erection and bent down to retrieve his wand and sweater. Taking advantage of Severus’ distraction, he slowly crept toward the door, snagging his book bag on the way. He turned the handle and when it did not open, remembered the professor had sealed it with a spell.

“Alohamora,” he whispered, but the door did not budge. He tried to think of a stronger unlocking charm but his mind drew a blank. He found his feet abruptly lifted up from the floor and himself into those deceptively strong and possessive arms.

“Where do you think you are going?” Severus growled, tossing book bag, sweater and wand aside and bringing Harry back to the workbench. With a long arm around his waist, anchoring him to his hip, Harry watched Severus stopper and seal the vials. A quick wave of his wand, all the flames beneath the cauldrons extinguished. The soft glow from the storage room went out as well so Harry knew the cauldron he had used to sterilize the vials was no longer a potential fire hazard.

Part of Harry was offended that the Potion Master had not ignored the medicinal salve, but another part of him was amused that no matter how strong of an aphrodisiac – if that was what it was – Pansy had brewed, it could not over ride his devotion to potions.

“You’re so tense, Baby,” Severus nibbled suggestively on his ear. “What ever is the matter?”

“Professor…I…”

Why was his mate so formal, Severus wondered. He kissed and nipped at Harry’s throat. Harry tasted slightly salty with an undercurrent of vanilla bath soap. His cheek rested against a pulse point and a thought surfaced through his potion-fogged brain.

“Trust me,” Severus hissed in his ear as he pushed Harry’s shoulders back onto the cold tabletop. There was an odd gleam in his eye. “Petrificus Totalis.”

*~*~*~*  
Immobilized, Harry could only look up at the ceiling. He could hear the professor searching through a potions cabinet and murmured spells of sterilization and of sharpening. His heart was pounding in his ears. What did Severus have in mind?

The older wizard slipped back into Harry’s line of vision. He set several items on the table beside Harry’s head. A cold alcohol pad was wiped across his throat and another in the crook of his arm. Severus kissed the scar on his forehead.

“Don’t be scared, Pretty Baby. It will only hurt a bit.”

Harry saw the flash of silver as Severus held a razor sharp knife to his neck. In deep concentration, the Potions Master made a nick into an artery at Harry’s throat, filling a sterile vial with the bright red liquid. A soft charm began the healing of the cut. After cleaning the blade, he lifted one frozen arm, holding it away from Harry’s body. He carefully sliced a shallow cut on a vein and filled another container. That incision was healed as well. A brisk tug and several strands of hair, root and all, were added to a third vial.

Severus licked a drop of blood leaking from the healing cut on his throat.

“Enervate.”

Harry’s teeth began to chatter, his body covered in goose bumps. His hand flew to his throat. “Wh-what…what are you doing?”

Severus gathered Harry into his arms as if he were a small child. His large hands rubbed the gooseflesh to warm it. “Needed to gather some necessary ingredients to brew a very special potion…not to worry.”

Harry’s mind flashed to the dozen red roses stripped down to their parts. He laughed oddly; was he too just something to be stripped down to his potion making ingredients?

“Blood of a virgin?”

Severus laughed a throaty laugh. “Silly Baby…your blood doesn’t change just because you’ve been fucked…Virgin blood…sacrifices…fairy tales to scare small children.”

“What kind of potion?” Harry inquired, not really wanting to know. Dark magic often relied on blood.

Severus caressed his cheek with a knuckle. “I’ll tell you later…you can help me brew it…but for now…” With a quick spell, Harry’s remaining clothing was removed. Harry made a panicked squeak and his hands flew protectively to his lap.

The professor thought his mate’s knobby knees were adorable. The slight form was awkward and ungainly in its nakedness; the pale flesh pink in embarrassment. The tall man pulled away the nervous hands, felt the sprite tremble beneath his fingers and knew it was not from the cold. The inexperienced kisses, the tentative touches, the blush of embarrassment told him what Harry had not.

The dark wizard devoured Harry’s mouth, sucking on his tongue, as one hand lazily petted the sparse hair on his chest and abdomen. The slight man jumped as the side of Severus’ arm brushed his erection.

“So innocent,” Severus thought. His fogged mind tried to sort out the situation. Why was his mate so scared? The smooth skin was delicious, but unfamiliar. This was obviously a new mate. What had happened to his old mate, he wondered. He ran a hand up the lightly furred thigh and felt the small form inhale sharply. He stared into the large green eyes.

“We’ve never been intimate with one another, have we?” he asked in realization.

Harry smiled shyly and shifted slightly. “First time with anyone…” 

Harry sat up, intending to attempt to bolt for the door. This situation was getting weirder by the moment. He had fanaticized about Severus and even had a wet dream or two featuring him but never in his wildest imaginings had he pictured anything actually happening.

“I’m sorry…I should go before someone notices I’m missing…”

The professor’s hands caressed the bony hips. “And who is going to be missing you?” 

Harry suddenly realized that there was no one to miss him. All his dorm mates had gone home for the holiday. Professor Dumbledore and Hagrid had taken most of the remaining students on a daylong adventure starting with a sleigh ride and ending in a late dinner in Hogsmeade to see the holiday decorations. There would be no Dumbledore appearing for a quick chat or a lemon drop and no Hagrid to show off a brand new beastie.

Severus lifted him off the tabletop and set him on the floor; it was cold against his bare soles. The older wizard pulled him to his chest, running his hands suggestively over Harry’s back and buttocks. He wanted to take his mate then and there, but realized that the room was freezing.

“Let’s take this somewhere warmer.” His voice was a growl of arousal.

*~*~*~*  
Harry’s mind was in turmoil as Severus pulled him through a doorway he had never noticed before and down a short hallway leading to Severus’ personal suite of rooms. He knew the Potions Master’s actions were only the result of Pansy’s mysterious potion and not the result of any actual feelings toward him, but the young wizard was starved for affection and the older wizard did seem determined to provide it.

Thinking that he would never find someone who would want him for being “Just Harry” and not the thrice-damned “Boy Who Lived”, Harry decided he would accept whatever affection Severus would give him and hope that the man would not hate him when his senses returned.

*~*~*~*  
The fire in the fireplace roared to life and a quickly cast charm warmed the bedding, helping to take the chill out of the small dungeon bedroom. Almost devoid of decoration, the room was filled with a massive antique oak four-poster bed and an equally massive armoire. Oriental carpet runners did little to soften the cold stone floor.

Severus indicated that Harry should get into the bed and was amused when Harry shyly obeyed, pulling the bedding up to his chin. Large green eyes, glowing with an emotion he could not read, watched Severus disrobe, layer by layer until only the tall, thin, muscular form remained.

He set a vial of the blue gel on a small bedside table; Harry recognized it as one of the items they had brewed earlier that day. The Potions Master slowly folded down Harry’s “protective” bedding until it was in a neat accordion fold at the foot of the bed. Unlike earlier, Harry made no attempt to cover himself or to bolt.

The dark wizard slid into the bed beside Harry, propping himself on one elbow as his other hand gently examined his mate. He ran his long, potion stained fingers across Harry’s lips and jaw, played with the shell of one of his ears and trailed across the hollow of his throat. Harry’s breath hitched as the hand continued its journey, caressing his shoulder, his chest, the protrusions of his ribcage, the bones of his hips. He brought the hand back up and curled around his shoulder, drawing Harry into a violently possessive kiss. He nipped at the sweet lower lip until it opened, permitting entrance, and he proceeded to claim the slight wizard’s tongue as well.

Another wave of arousal coursed through Severus. Mine, his body screamed, mine. Still kissing hungrily, he rolled himself on top of the smaller man; the full body contact was almost too much for his artificially stimulated system.

He broke away from Harry’s lips and attacked his face, his neck, and his shoulder. His hips slowly rocked and his arousal grew; he could feel Harry harden beneath him. Harry growled in frustration as Severus shifted his hips away, breaking contact; the tall man wanted to prolong the pleasure.

Severus smiled inwardly as Harry nibbled gently on his ear lobe and pulled his hair free from the restrictive ponytail. He noticed that some of the fear that had consumed his mate had abated. Still nervous and uncertain, Harry tentatively began to reciprocate Severus’ attentions.

Harry’s thumbs made slow circles on the tall wizard’s nipples and he nipped playfully at the tender spot where neck met shoulder. Severus’ body was on overload; his body could not handle Harry’s gentle foreplay. The Potion Master caught Harry’s hands and pushed them to his sides; he pulled away from the tantalizing mouth.

“Pro…Severus?” Harry asked in confusion.

Severus sat up and moved to a kneeling position between Harry’s legs. His hands ran long strokes up the thin, muscular thighs. Harry inhaled sharply, his erection standing proudly. The dark wizard traced the sparse trail of hair down Harry’s chest, across his abdomen and into the thicker nest below.

“I need you, Baby. I need to be in you…”

Harry looked into the dark eyes and saw the lust building. Those gentle hands made him feel wonderful. Severus’ hands stroked his thighs and hips, never touching his erection.

“Can I take you, my pretty baby?” Severus’ hand wrapped loosely around Harry’s cock and his thumb rubbed the pre cum at the tip. “I think you want me too, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Harry whispered.

*~*~*~*~*  
A soft sound broke in Harry’s throat as a long, thin and well-lubricated finger breached his entrance. The finger slid in and out, each time penetrating a little deeper. When Severus felt Harry relax into the strokes, he added a second lubricated finger. Harry keened and tried to pull back.

Severus began to stroke his erection as a distraction, the same rhythm as the fingers. He would not ask the slight wizard if it was uncomfortable or if he wanted him to stop because Severus knew he would be unable to stop. It was taking all of his strength to properly prepare his partner and not just take him.

Severus continued to pump Harry as he added a third finger into the tight channel. The sprite’s whimper of discomfort gave way to pleasure as Severus stroked his sweet spot. Harry arched off the bed; the dual pleasures Severus provided caused him to explode in orgasm. Harry panted as he came down from his powerful climax.

The Potions Master could wait no longer; seeing his companion lost in passion took the last of his self-control. He summoned a warm, wet cloth and wiped Harry clean. Harry pulled him down for a kiss.

“Get on your hands and knees, pretty one.”

Severus caught the slight look of apprehension as Harry scrambled to his knees. He was too aroused to care.

Harry blushed as he rested his warm face on his folded arms, his backside up in the air; what an undignified position, he thought as Severus pushed his knees farther apart. All thoughts of dignity disappeared when Severus grasped his hip; a moment later pain shot through Harry as the head of Severus’ well lubricated cock breached the tight ring of muscles.

Harry cried out; he had expected discomfort like the fingers had provided, not the sudden burning pain. The older man rubbed his back in a comforting motion as he pulled out, entering again slowly, time and time again, each time a little deeper. With one final push, he was buried to the hilt; Severus leaned over his back and, using his superior height, kissed his neck. Harry’s entire body was covered in a cold sweat.

“It’s done, Pretty Baby.” Severus breathed heavily into his ear. “It’s done.”

He waited just a moment for Harry to adjust to him before he began a steady rhythm, angling himself to hit the sweet spot. Harry’s pain mutated into pleasure and he found himself pushing back to meet Severus’ thrusts. Pulling all the way out and thrusting back with a long, smooth pace, deeper and deeper, hearing cries of pleasure. He reached around, feeling Harry’s reawakened erection and he pumped in rhythm to his thrusts.

Harry’s second orgasm tore through his body, the spasms causing his channel to tighten in pulses. Severus, seeking his own release, grasped both hips tightly and began to thrust harder. His own release flooding deep inside Harry, he collapsed being careful not to crush the small man beneath him.

As they both lay beside one another, Severus’ long arm pulling Harry’s back against his chest, it occurred to him that he had perhaps taken his virgin mate a little roughly.

Severus kissed the back of Harry’s sweat soaked neck. He murmured a quick cleaning charm on both them and the bedding and reached down, pulling the neatly accordioned bedding over them.

When Harry was strangely quiet, Severus pushed up slightly so he could see the other’s face. Harry smiled shyly.

“Did I hurt you, Baby?”

Harry didn’t answer. He just nuzzled against the older wizard’s chest.

*~*~*~*~*  
Severus awoke in the middle of the night, fully aroused. He listened to the soft breathing of the figure beside him and the desire to possess him made itself known. Disentangling himself from the younger man’s arms and legs, Severus sat up and examined his sleeping mate in the glow of the fireplace. Delicate features of a young man too old to be a child and not yet coarse enough to be a man, the long black eyelashes fanned out over the cheeks of the too thin face.

The man pulled away the bedding and let his eyes roam up his sleeping partner, licking his lips to moisten them. He liked the awkward, coltishness of his mate and could see the lines of the man he would become and wondered, vaguely, why he had chosen a mate so young.

Harry, noticing the loss of the warm bedding, reached around for them, still asleep. Severus caught his questing hand and kissed him on the wrist. The young man murmured something unintelligible. 

Severus shifted on the bed and moved one of Harry’s legs so that he was between them. He liberally coated his arousal with lubrication and pumped himself several times until he was fully hard. He lifted Harry’s ankles and rested them on his shoulders; Harry started, but did not awaken. Adding additional lubrication, Severus inserted two fingers into Harry’s puckered opening and determined that the channel was still relaxed.

Harry’ awoke, eyes wide in shock, as Severus thrust deeply into him, burying himself to the hilt on the first stroke. A choked cry escaped from the slight wizard and his open mouth was claimed by Severus’ tongue.

*~*~*~*  
In the afterglow that followed, Severus pulled Harry into his arms, his head on his chest; Harry listened to the soft thump of the older wizard’s heart. Slowly, Severus ran his fingers through the slight wizard’s hair and down his warm bare back. The soft caress and the melodic heartbeat lulled him to sleep.

Severus slowly dropped off to sleep, comforted by the warm body in his arms. His fogged memory was starting to clear, but he pushed it away, not wanting to encourage the headache teasing at the corners of his mind.

Several hours later Harry awoke with a start, the reality of the evening sinking in. Snuggled into the comfort of the Potion Master’s arms, his mind was in overdrive; how could he have been so selfish as to take advantage of the man in his drugged state? Harry was disgusted with himself and his shattered self-confidence took another tumble.

Harry slipped out of the bed, wincing at the ache in his backside. His heart skipped when Severus, mumbling something incoherent reached for him before curling into the warm pillow. He gently kissed the sleeping man’s forehead.

“Good bye Severus,” Harry whispered as his bare feet hurried over the cold dungeon floor. He made his way back to the classroom where his clothing remained strewn in the floor and tabletops. The first rays of the dawn cast an eerie glow into the potions workroom. Quickly, he slipped on his clothing; he was missing a sock but he pulled on his short boot anyway.

“Accio wand.” He held out his hand and his wand flew into it. “Lumos.”

By the faint light of his wand, Harry gathered up his book bag and sweater. In his haste to leave, he never noticed that some of the contents of his book bag had spilled onto the dungeon floor. Still unable to break the locking charm on the door, Harry returned quietly to Severus’ bedchamber and flooed himself into the Gryffindor Common Room where he found Professor Dumbledore waiting for him.

*~*~*~*  
Severus slowly awoke, reluctant to end his wonderful dream. The flash of floo powder startled him. His body ached in a most delicious way and his pillow carried a scent that was not his own. Clearing the cobwebs of sleep, he shrugged off the dull ache behind his eyes.

Why was he nude, he wondered. He always slept in a nightshirt to ward off the dungeon chill. Memory was coming back in fragments. His last clear thought was of drinking the tea Pansy had brought him and that there was something wrong with it. Then a memory drifted by of startled green eyes and pulling a small half-dressed form away from a locked door.

Severus wrapped his tall, thin body up in a warm bathrobe and slid his feet into wool scuffs. He felt a draft; the door leading to his workroom was ajar and he never left the doors open. His dream apparently was not a dream; someone had been in his rooms and from the ache in his thighs, had been entertained in his bed.

Wand drawn, he illuminated his workroom before entering it. The room was a haphazard collection of freshly bottled potions, potions stopped in mid-brew, piles of raw ingredients, and most unusual, dirty cauldrons, ladles and mortars. He walked over to a workbench that was clear except for three vials and a blood stained knife. Pale skin punctured by the blade flashed before him, blood caught in a vial. Merlin, what had he done?

Stepping toward the teapot and half-filled mug, his foot kicked something solid. He bent down and picked up a bundle held together with elastic bands. He recognized it at once; he had seen Harry with it many times.

Harry.

Memory shards flooded over the Potion Master. Harry had spent yesterday afternoon helping him brew potions and salves for the Infirmary. He was still there when Pansy brought her usual offering of tea, but the tea had an off flavor to it. Kissing Harry, Pansy kissing him. Sealing Harry into the workroom, pinning him to the workbench, stripping off his clothes, touching him, tasting him, and taking him.

Severus sank to the floor, the packet clutched in his hands and the soft echo of “first time with anyone” freezing a lump in his stomach. Under the influence of whatever potion Pansy brewed, had he raped a student, raped a virgin, raped…a friend?

Knees drawn up, he leaned back against the sturdy workbench, ignoring the chill dampness permeating through the dressing gown. He wasn’t sure how long he sat, staring into space, the night’s events coming into focus. He was barely aware of the wards sealing the door being breached and he jumped when a hand lightly touched his shoulder.

“Severus,” Albus Dumbledore said quietly. “You need to shower and shave. They will be serving breakfast soon…”

“Albus, I…”

Albus frowned at the broken tone of the man’s voice. The old wizard was angry, but not at Severus and certainly not at Harry. He picked up a 6th Year Transfiguration book beside his foot and set it on the tabletop. He didn’t need to open the cover to know who it belonged to.

*~*~*~*  
Severus stared at the flames, safely ensconced in his favorite chair beside his sitting room fireplace sipping a cup of tea he had brewed himself. The meeting with Albus had caused as many questions as it had answers.

Pansy had been sent to St. Mungo’s Hospital for a complete psychological work up; she would not be welcome back at Hogwarts anytime soon. Frantic that her parents had arranged an unwanted marriage contract with the parents of Adrian Pucey, a recently graduated Slytherin, her mild infatuation with her head of house had taken a dangerous turn. Not only had she brewed an obscure, possibly dark, love potion; she had also brewed and ingested a fertility potion. When Severus had ignored her advances, she decided to drug him, have intercourse with him and, after he had impregnated her, force him to marry her to prevent scandal.

Severus shuddered to think what his future would be had the plan succeeded although he was fairly certain that Pansy’s father would have forced a quiet abortion rather hand face the greater scandal of a public wedding between student and teacher.

Harry’s reaction was a mystery to him. He had only seen the slight wizard at meals and they were at opposite ends of the table; any interaction between them was stilted. Albus had met with him privately and said only that Harry did not blame him and refused to press assault charges against either Severus or Pansy. Albus indicated that Harry felt guilty, that he had somehow taken advantage of Severus in his drugged state, but that could not be right. He had trapped the young wizard and forced himself on him, that he was under the influence of a potion was of no consequence. What he had taken from the young man was precious; something to be given to a lover and it could not be replaced.

But the question remained. What had made him choose Harry over Pansy?

~*~*~*~*  
Curiosity winning out, Severus removed the elastic bands holding the racing broom catalogs, the Muggle notebook and the odd Muggle device with the numbered keypad. Calculator, he corrected himself; the odd device was a calculator. Muggles used them to do mathematics instead of the abacus wizards used. He pushed the “ON” button and punched in a few numbers. It was much quicker than his abacus. Maybe he would ask Harry or Hermione how to purchase one; it would make calculating potion measurements easier.

He set aside the catalogs, noting folded down corners on some. The notebook was filled with brief notations and lists of figures. Tucked between the pages in bound manila pockets were receipts, Gringotts Bank statements and odd correspondence. Severus realized it was a financial ledger of some sort, a budget.

He closed the book; it was really none of his business. He set it on the table beside his chair and began to peruse the racing broom catalogs. His own broom was an older model, a Cleansweep Eight. It was sufficient for his needs. With the exception of refereeing an odd Quidditch match, he rarely flew, preferring to apparate, floo or portkey himself to where he needed to be.

Harry had made notations beside several of the brooms, analyzing the strengths and weaknesses. It was obvious he thought highly of the Firebolt, a relatively new broom on the market. He also had given high marks to several in the Nimbus line as well. Cleansweep appeared to have branched into the family market; their only racing broom was a student model for beginning flyers. There were several other catalogs featuring North American brooms and one written in Japanese, but Harry had no comments or folded pages in them.

Severus picked up the notebook again, studying it. It was Harry’s personal budget and it surprised him that a sixteen year old would have such a comprehensive package, until it occurred to him that Harry was, in reality, a liberated minor and, as such, responsible for all his financial necessities. He had no adult in his life to handle financial transactions for him.

Curiosity won again over guilt as he began to study the pages of numbers. Looking at several of the notations, Severus realized that Harry was not as financially secure as he had assumed him to be. Harry not only had his current spending listed, he also had tentative budgets mapped out for the next five years. His list of expenses and cost estimates were precise – Hogwarts tuition, books and supplies, clothing, gifts, food and medical costs for his owl and incidentals. He had estimated the cost of supporting himself for the summer holiday between his sixth and seventh year and for three years post graduation – long enough to establish a career.

A surprise notation indicated that Harry was a silent partner in the Weasley twins joke shop venture; Severus was pleased to see a slight return on that dubious investment. 

Under Harry’s list of necessities, Severus was sobered to see a monthly withdrawal to subsidize Remus Lupin’s Wolfsbane Potion and a small stipend supporting his godfather Sirius Black, who was still on the run and had had all his assets frozen by the Ministry.

The Potion Master snorted when he saw several pounds budgeted to provide yarn for Dobby, the independent house elf.

Harry even had a wish list. Most of the items were small – Quidditch gloves, a wrist watch, specific book titles, new shoes – but there were several other items listed on another list, a dream list. On that list was the Firebolt. Thin lines ran through several small items and others had prices penciled beside them.

Severus summoned his abacus and rechecked Harry’s figures. He came up with the same conclusion the younger wizard must have made. He now knew why Harry was using a refurbished school broom. Based on the projected income and expenditures, there was not enough money for something as extravagant and unnecessary as a racing broom.

The professor gathered up the catalogs, notebook and calculator and refastened the elastic bands. He placed the bundle on top of Harry’s Transfiguration book. He would ask a house elf to deliver them to Harry’s room. Unconsciously casting a spell to reheat his cold tea, Severus stared into the fire; now that he no longer viewed the green eyed wizard through a filter of hatred, he was saddened to think that he had added one more burden to the slim shoulders.

He thought back to Harry’s wish list; Christmas was in two days. An idea began to take shape in his mind.

*~*~*~*  
The snow was falling lightly as Harry entered the Great Hall for breakfast. He nodded in greeting to Professor Dumbledore and Severus before sitting at the other end, across from Hagrid and several First Years. The hall was sparkling in its Christmas finery. If anyone noticed Pansy was missing, they didn’t mention it.

Being Christmas Eve Day, Dumbledore had a list of activities planned for the children and today, not even Severus, was totally exempt from the festivities. The snow sculpture contest quickly dissolved into a snowball fight with Hagrid, Harry and Terry Boot taking on all the remaining children. Headmaster Dumbledore watched delightedly from the sidelines and Professor Snape headed into the dungeons to brew several medicinal potions to prevent colds and the flu.

To the house elves amusement, the activities moved into the kitchen for hot chocolate and baking gingerbread men. Severus proved to be as adept in cooking as he was at potions. Albus was pleased that after the initial shock wore off, the children seemed to enjoy the uncharacteristic behavior of the stoic Potions Master.

*~*~*~*  
Tucked in a window seat, Harry stared out a window in the deserted Great Hall. The early snow had all but stopped and the stars shone brightly in the Christmas Eve sky. He absentmindedly sipped on a mug of hot chocolate Dobby had brought him.

The headmaster was reading Christmas stories to the younger students, already in their nightclothes and snuggled into couches in the Ravenclaw Common Room. Harry had slipped away early on; he was alone for Christmas and, between the holiday and the situation with Severus, he was depressed.

For several wonderful hours he had known what it felt like to be loved, to be desired and knowing that it was all an illusion made the loneliness ache in his heart even more. Severus had called him “Pretty Baby”. He had never been anyone’s “Baby” before, pretty or otherwise. Thinking back, Severus never called him by name; had the professor even known who he was making love to?

Harry laughed hollowly. Making love. He had not been made love to; he had been merely fucked into the mattress by a man drugged with a dark arts aphrodisiac. 

Harry looked out the window one last time before making his way to the deserted Gryffindor Tower. He pulled on his flannel nightshirt and crawled into bed. He curled into a tight ball, shivering into the ice-cold sheets and wishing he had remembered to perform a warming charm on them. The slight wizard never even acknowledged the small Christmas tree the house elves had placed in the corner of his dorm room. Several packages from his godfather and his friends were tucked beneath the branches.

*~*~*~*  
Severus crept into the Gryffindor boys’ sixth year dormitory. Quietly he tucked a gift beneath the small tree. Harry was asleep, his face illuminated in the soft glow of the fairy lights. The tall wizard examined the delicate features, a dull ache in his chest. Harry rolled over, the heavy duvet slipping from his shoulder.

Gently Severus brushed back the wild black hair before tucking the bedding back over his shoulders.

“Nox,” Severus whispered as he extinguished the lights on the Christmas tree, plunging the room into darkness.

“Happy Christmas, Harry.”

*~*~*~*  
The scent of cinnamon tickled Harry’s nose. Slowly he stretched and opened one bleary eye to the mid morning light. A breakfast tray with a self-warming charm sat on a low table beside the Christmas tree.  
The low rumble in his stomach was persistent. He crawled out of bed, wrapping his duvet around himself and shuffled over to a chair.

When had the tree gotten there, he wondered and lit the fairy lights with a soft “Lumos”. Presents, he thought and smiled, remembering back to his first Hogwarts Christmas when he was eleven. He lifted the dome on the tray, the scent of cinnamon even stronger - scrambled eggs, several fat sausages, and toast, butter, jam and cinnamon scones. A small carafe held juice and a tea cozy warmed a medium sized teapot. Tucked beside the silverware was a small lumpy package tied in a few lengths of bright yarn.

Harry unwrapped the parcel and laughed. Dobby had knitted him another pair of socks – one red and gold striped, the other maroon and white checked. He quickly pulled them on his cold bare feet, the wool soft and warm against his toes.

Nibbling on his breakfast, he looked at the small collection of gifts beneath the tree. Any other year he would have had them all unwrapped before even thinking of food, but today he wanted to savor the moment a little longer.

Hermione had gotten him a Muggle book called “Investing Your Assets in a Turbulent Market” and a fountain pen with cartridges. He flipped through the investment book; Hermione thought he made a mistake bank rolling the Weasley twins business venture, but she understood his motivation.

There were the usual joke gifts from his dorm mates – bizarre flavored candy, t-shirts with questionable phrases and boxer shorts with atrocious patterns. He set the Blood Pops aside with a shudder; maybe one of Hagrid’s odd assortment of acquaintances would like them.

Ron and Ginny gave him Quidditch gloves and a dozen Chocolate Frogs. Fred and George sent a few samples of their new products and a deposit slip for 37 galleons, his percentage of the profits.

He reached for a flat rectangular box. The gift card was in his godfather’s handwriting. He and Remus were in North America visiting several werewolf colonies for Dumbledore. A short note made him smile; Remus had been offered a teaching position by werewolf pack in Vermont. Harry hoped Remus would accept it; he loved to teach and, being with his own kind, would finally have no reason to fear the full moon or have to hide who he really was.

They had sent him several long sleeved black t-shirts imprinted with the names of obscure Muggle bands and a Muggle novel, “Dune” by Frank Herbert. A short note tucked inside was from Remus; he said Harry might recognize similarities to the characters portrayed in the book and wizards he knew.

Dumbledore had tucked a thin book on wandless magic into the gift basket of Honeydukes candy he gave all the students remaining for the holidays. Harry set the tin of Mrs. Weasley’s fudge and jam tarts beside it.

Only two gifts remained. He poked at a large lumpy package with apprehension. He knew it was his annual Weasley sweater and that it was a gift of love, but last year’s sweater had been a bright lime green. Harry turned back a corner and sighed in relief. This year’s sweater was knitted in black and green-flecked tweed wool. He might actually be able to wear this one in public.

The final package was a long cylinder wrapped in silver paper and tied in red ribbon. As he pulled the paper wrapped item inside the cylinder, it enlarged, and a gift tag fluttered to the floor. Harry stared in shock as a Firebolt racing broom emerged from the nest of paper.

He picked up the tag and recognized the precise handwriting at once. The note was brief and held no signature.

“In small compensation for my actions against you.”

Harry’s hands slowly caressed the smooth varnished handle; he could feel the power of the broom through his fingertips. Sadly, he set it aside and made his way to the showers.

*~*~*~*  
Even though it was Christmas Day, Severus entered his office, intending to catch up on his correspondence. He was surprised to see the Firebolt racing broom lying across the arms of his chair. There was a note attached.

“Professor,  
Thank you very much for the broom, but I cannot accept it.  
Harry”

Severus sat the broom onto a clean corner of his desk and fingered the note in his hands.

*~*~*~*  
Harry barely looked up as the door to the Sixth Year dormitory opened after 10:00 that evening. He was already tucked into bed, propped up against a mountain of pillows and reading the book on investments. He assumed it was Headmaster Dumbledore making his evening bed check.

The smile of welcome froze on his face as the tall, thin form of Professor Snape strode into the room, Firebolt in hand. The Potion Master placed it beneath the tree and turned to face Harry. His eyebrow arched; there was no mistaking the look of pain in the brilliant green eyes.

“I’m not a whore,” Harry whispered, shrinking into himself.

The statement caught Severus by surprise. “Who called you a whore?”

“You did.” Harry would not look at him. “You called it compensation…but it’s the same thing…only whores take payment for sex…”

Severus sat on the edge of the mattress and reached out, cupping the thin face in his hand and turning the sad eyes to face him. “I don’t think you’re a whore…I took something very precious from you and I…”

“You didn’t ‘take’ anything from me except my blood. I gave myself to you…I didn’t expect anything in return.”

Severus sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, trying to figure out what to say. His thin hands were flat on his thighs. Harry realized how vulnerable the man looked wearing just his trousers and a turtleneck; he didn’t have his bat like robes for protection.

Harry slipped from beneath the covers and sat beside the older wizard, tugging his red flannel nightshirt down to cover his legs. He touched the man’s shoulder; Severus looked at the floor and suddenly began to laugh. Sticking out from the hem of the nightshirt were Harry’s feet, still wearing the hideous hand knitted socks Dobby had made him.

Harry was startled by the laughter; he blushed when he followed the other man’s gaze. In embarrassment, Harry mumbled, “They were a Christmas gift from Dobby…he’s a house elf.”

Severus slipped off his dragon hide boots. On his feet were mismatched socks – one black and white stripped, the other a green and gray checkerboard. “The Headmaster insisted I wear them at least for the day…I believe he received a pair as well. I remember one was purple with black dots but I don’t remember what color the other one was.”

Dobby’s socks sparked a conversation that eased the tension between them. Severus reached into his trouser pocket and held out to Harry the two vials of blood and the third containing hair. “We need to destroy these…too many dangerous dark potions can be brewed with human blood.”

“What…what were you planning to brew with it? You didn’t tell me when you took it…” Harry did not take the vials.

Severus looked at the three vials in the palm of his hand. “I honestly have no idea…I would suspect, given the nature of Pansy’s potion…that I meant to bind you to me.”

Harry swallowed hard, one finger running over the surface of the vials.

*~*~*~*  
“Severus.”

Severus looked at the slight wizard.

“I discovered something about the potion Pansy drugged you with…”

“The Cor Fyr?” Harry nodded. “It’s very old, very obscure. I don’t know how she found it.”

“The Restricted Section…I saw her put a book back on the shelves first day of the holidays.”

“And you didn’t think to tell anyone?”

“Severus, it’s me. Harry. As many times as I’ve been in the Restricted Section without permission over the years…who am I to report anyone? Any way…about the Cor Fyr…’

Harry tentatively began to kiss Severus’ shoulder and ran his hand lightly up the man’s back. The dark wizard turned toward him and he gave him a chaste kiss on the lips.

“…You couldn’t have raped me…there is something about the potion…it made you desperate to claim me, to protect me…but it would not have permitted you to hurt me.”

Severus smiled a rare smile. “You’ve done your research…but why did I pick you over Pansy?”

“Curiosity.” Harry kissed him again and slowly slid his tongue into Severus’ mouth. Severus let out a soft moan and laid back into the bed, pulling Harry with him. He rolled the slight wizard beneath him. Harry felt safe, pinned to the mattress by the man’s warmth and weight.

Severus kissed and caressed the slim body, but made no effort to undress him. This time they would take it slow, at a pace not to threaten Harry. Harry deepened the kiss and tangled his fingers in the long black hair. After a moment, Severus broke off and propped himself up, taking some weight off the smaller man.

“Curiosity about what?”

“About me…you’ve been studying me…examining me. You love to watch me fly…” A light of realization sparked in Harry’s eyes. “That’s why you gave me the Firebolt. The Cleansweep is too slow and clumsy.”

“Yes…Does it bother you…that I watch you?” The dark man asked.

“No…I have probably been watching you almost as long as you’ve been watching me…” Harry placed a quick kiss at Severus’ throat. “And I love your voice.”

“And Pansy?”

“You never looked back…she held no interest for you.”

Harry snuggled up against the older wizard and found himself wrapped in the long thin arms, head tucked beneath his chin. Severus lightly traced the contour of Harry’s face with a potion stained finger.

“Severus?” Harry asked quietly; Harry had been so still the older wizard had thought him asleep. “The other night…did you even know it was me you were fucking?”

Severus could hear the ache in Harry’s voice, the need for human affection. He exhaled slowly before answering.

“On some level, I must have known it was you…but no…the need to claim you as my mate was too strong…I’m very sorry…”

“I thought not…you never called me by my name.”

“I must have called you something.”

“Baby…you called me Pretty Baby.”

Severus snorted. “Pretty…Baby. Definitely the potion…I don’t believe I have ever used those words to describe you in my life.”

“Insufferable brat…foolish Gryffindor, idiot boy…” Severus silenced him with a kiss. He moved Harry aside and sat up, swinging his long legs over the edge of the bed.

“It’s late. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Stay with me. No one will know.”

“No. If we are going to attempt a relationship, it will not be based solely on sexual attraction. As you said earlier, you are not a whore…and I will never treat you as such.” Severus glanced at the racing broom. “Will you accept the Firebolt as a thank you for all the assistance you’ve given me in the potions lab?”

*~*~*~*  
Headmaster Dumbledore glanced at his pocket watch. It was after midnight and he still needed to complete his bed check of the remaining students. Usually he made his checks around 10:00, but a homesick Hufflepuff First Year whose tears had triggered bouts of homesickness in two others had detained him.

The old wizard quietly opened the door to the Gryffindor Tower. The Fat Lady had assured him that Harry was safely ensconced inside and that Professor Snape had checked on him earlier that evening.

Since he had already climbed the stairs to the tower, Dumbledore decided he might as well check on the young man. He quietly opened the door to the dorm room and crept toward the bed. In the moonlight, he could make out Harry’s tousled black hair. Clutched in his arms was a racing broom. The old wizard gently extracted it from the young man’s arms and propped it against the bedside table. Harry murmured a soft protest and rolled over, snuggling into the warmth of the bedclothes.

*~*~*~*  
Severus wrapped his winter cloak tighter to his throat as he watched Harry shoot through the three Quidditch goal hoops in quick succession. The January morning was frigid and he wondered how much colder it must be up in the air; Harry would need every bit of the warming charm he had cast that morning.

So mesmerized by Harry pulling out of his third perfect Wronski Feint, Severus did not hear the approach of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team until he heard a soft exclamation beside him.

“Merlin,” Ron whispered under his breath. ‘ He’s bloody marvelous…”

“Yes, he is.” Severus agreed as he nodded briefly to the gathered students and returned to the warmth of the castle, never noticing the look of shock on the red head’s face.

*~*~*~*  
FIN


End file.
